Summary: Korra still gets gift baskets from time to time, and sharing is caring.

She is waiting for him when she hears the door shut. He calls her name and she hears his heavy steps in the hall. Soon, Bolin stands in their door and squints into the candle light, dropping the bag in his hand. The duffle hits the floor with heavy clank as his eyes dart around their bedroom.

Korra smiles at him, perched upon the bed and tosses her hair over her shoulder; the rough ends tickle the skin of her chest. She is naked and smiling at his gob-smacked face and, beside her, there is an overflowing basket of fruit on the night stand near her side of the bed.

"Surprise."

She plucks a mango: prettily colored red, gold, and green and Bolin's apparent favorite, and cuts into the thick skin with a small kitchen knife. It is yellow inside, and juice swells up to coat her fingers as she carves a chunk and brings it to her lips.

"Wow." He says.

She stretches on their bed, making her body long and the sheets shift beneath her legs. The room is warm from the summer night and a comfortable breeze blows over her bare skin.

"What's all this?" he says, quickly removing the heavy metal armor plating of his uniform and tossing it to the ground. He grabs at his boot, hopping for balance as he tugs and kicks to remove it. The boot flies across the room and he sits heavily on the bed close to her before attacking the second. She laughs at his hurried display and runs a hand over his thigh.

"Just another snooty politician with an agenda to push." She says and takes another bite of the fruit. The juice trails down her chin and she wipes it quickly away. "He thought he could send me a present to sway me over to his side. Perks of being the Avatar, I guess. They could be more creative, though."

She cuts another chunk, but before she could eat it, Bolin catches her hand and pulls it to his lips. He pops the fruit and her fingers in his mouth, taking the piece gently and licking the juice from her skin. .

"And just how am I supposed to feel about strange men sending my girl expensive gifts," he says, kissing along her wrist. "Some rich, Earth Kingdom prince could try and steal you away."

"Fire Nation, actually. Just a diplomat." She said. "And you shouldn't worry about that too much. Especially when I bring it back to share with you."

He bends to kiss her and she runs her palms over his shoulders. One large hand slides up her back to cradle her head while the other sits against her ribs, a calloused thumb tracing arches against her skin and rubbing the side of her breast.

"That," he says, "is a very good point."

She pulls him back down and hungrily lets her hands roam over his body. The white undershirt is thin and she feels the muscles of his chest and abs. She trails down to the tied belt at this waist, and tugs it.

Bolin kisses down her jaw, to her neck, and pulls her tight against his chest as he climbs fully on the bed, settling between her knees. He strokes her sides, building heat and friction in her skin. He covers her breast and rubs a circle around her nipple. She gasps and presses messy, open-mouth kisses against his throat; she can feel him through his trousers. Her fumbling fingers fight with the knot at his waist until it gives.

She grabs pants and underclothes and yanks down to free him, bringing her knees and feet up to help drag them down and leave him naked from the waist down. He rises up on his toes to help and steps out, one foot at a time, all the while nipping and sucking across her collar bone.

Free from his clothing, he lays down against her and Korra feels the heat of him pressing against her legs. She grabs at his shirt him and drags it up his back, greedily eying the wide plains of his back as she uncovers it. He breaks apart from her to pull it over his head. He joins her in nudity and grins down at her before placing a sweet kiss against her lips.

She has dropped the half-eaten mango and the knife in the bed covers beside her and he leans to the side to reach for them. He slices the fruit along the side, and quickly makes neat little cubes in the exposed flesh, turning the skin inside-out so they pop up; this is a much prettier job than what she has done. With his efforts, little sprays of juice fall from the knife on her chest and stomach.

"Now then," he says and pops a little cube free. He feeds it to her; she swirls her tongue around her fingers and he gives a little thrust against her thigh. "We'd really better make the most of this." He takes several more little cubes and sets them down on her skin: her collar bone, between her breasts, and down her stomach. "I can't stand to see good food go to waste."

He kisses behind her ear, nipping at the lobe before following the column of her throat down to her shoulder. He follows the trail he has left with fruit, taking them from her skin and licking and sucking her clean. Little strands of hair have come free from his slicked back style through the long day and they brush against her in tickling lines. Warm puffs of wet breath wash over her skin before he kisses her, and the room is getting hotter.

He reaches the last chunk of mango, which he has placed directly on her navel and he is gripping her hips as he takes it, letting his tongue dip into her belly button; his strong fingers dig into the flesh of her ass.

He pushes himself back up, grinding against her as he comes back to her lips. She arches her hips, angling just right that if he pressed forward it would be perfect, but he pulls away with an infuriating wink.

"Hey now," He says. "I'm still hungry." She glares at him, but he trails a hand between her legs and strokes her in just the right spot. She falls back against the bed with a moan.

He reaches into the tall basket, and his brows draw together in a confused pout. He pulls out a small fruit, brown and fuzzy and inspects it. "What's this one?" He sits up and flips it over in his hand. "Never seen one like this."

She doesn't recognize it either, so she takes it and the knife and cuts it in half. The center reveals a beautiful, vivid green that is such a contrast to the drab exterior. She admires how pretty the color is and notices the similarity to the wide eyes watching with her. Bolin is alight with curiosity that is far too adorable.

She peals the skin from the fruit quickly, and cuts circular slices to place on her skin. She sets one on each breast, loving the giddy smile on his face as she does, the rest she trails down her stomach. She pulls his head back to her, kissing him, and then letting him go.

His smile melts her right before he dips down and takes one of the green circles from her breast. Her fingers tangle in his hair as he circles her nipple with his tongue and gently sucks. He pulls away, kissing the raised nub and moves to the other side; his fingers quickly replace his lips and continue stroking. He is poised over her when he looks up to meet her eyes. He winks at her, and gives a small cough from the back of his throat.

"Pretty good." He says. "Might just have to be a new favorite."

Her head rolls back against a pillow as he drops his mouth to her breast, repeating the motions, drawing out her moans. She presses her hips up against him, but he is too far away and she doesn't know how long she'll be able to hold out before she just flips him over and dominates him. She digs her fingers into his shoulders, kneading the skin and pulling him closer. He coughs again, pulling away and rubbing his throat.

"What's wrong?" she says, trying to catch his face.

"Nothing." He is rubbing harder at his throat and his face doesn't match his words. "Everything's fine. Just a little…" but he breaks off, coughing again.

He shakes it off, kissing her chest again, and stroking her to build the mood back, but it isn't long before he gives a chocked, gagging cough and sits up completely.

"Bo," she says, rising beside him and stroking his back; the fruit falls around them as she pulls him close. "What's going wrong?"

"I don't know." His voice is thick and slurred. "My throat feels funny." His eyes were also watering and his speech was not normal, and she thought his lips looked puffier than usual. That happened when they made out sometimes, but not so drastically, and never to a point that made him stop.

"Korra," he says, actually looking afraid, "My tongue!"

He gestures towards his mouth and she can see immediately that it is swollen. The coughing starts again, deep and gagging, and he is clutching at his throat and gripping her hand, and now is the time to act.

"Excuse me!" the lady at the receptionist table jumps as Korra's palm slaps down on the table top. "We need to see a doctor now! My boyfriend needs help." Korra is fierce as she glares at the woman in front of her, dressed only in bed sheet that is knotted above her chest.

She sputters, not sure what to make of the Avatar barging into the local hospital, unclothed and screaming. "What is the problem…" then she sees the young man step out from behind.

His poor face is barely recognizable, puffed up and red like a tomato. The green of his eyes is only a sliver behind swollen lids, but a trail of tears flows through the creases of his face. He holds Korra's hand in a vice grip, and clutches at the fabric tied around his waist to preserve what is left of his modesty; even his hands are fluid filled and swollen.

He can barely speak , but mutters a barely distinguishable "Please help me," as Korra rubs his back.

"Great spirits!" the woman screams and calls for a gurney. A nurse hurries forward, taking Bolin, and forcing his mouth open, peering at his throat and shining a light in his eye. They quickly shuffle down the hall behind wide double doors.

"Tank Ooo," Bolin calls over his shoulder and leans into Korra's strength.

Several nurses rush towards them with a wheeled stretcher. They help him to lay down and he is thankful that Korra stays by his side, never releasing his hand.

"Korra?" he says, and it is pitiful.

"It's going to be alright, Bo." she says and he nods at her words.

"That green fruit is not my favorite." he says and they rush forward down the hall.

The next day, the front page of the newspaper is littered with images of the Avatar tearing through town on her polar bear dog, draped immodestly in linen with a mostly naked man sitting in front of her. Below it is an image of a Fire Nation Diplomat standing in front of city hall with a basket on his head and broken chunks of assorted fruits on his clothes and at his feet.

Chief Beifong puts down her cup of coffee and turns the page. She really doesn't want to know.

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